A reflection

Tracing the outline, fingers to the glass
Light refracting as she’s reflecting
Over colours
Over shapes
That she no longer sees

No more than skin stretched over fragile bones
For warped perfection her mind was sold
There’s no refund
No returns
Down this long, one-way road

The geography of her facial features
Map out the route she so carefully chose
But no bearings
No contours
Could tell her how far she’d fall

Her lips frame phrases of the lethal kind
And all her words are spiked with cyanide
No drugs
No medication
Can cure her from this fate

She’s losing it
She’s slipping down
Yet another dress size
And another step backwards
Onto the scales
But how does she look
On the larger scale?
"And, when the doctor said I didn't have worms any more, that was the happiest day of my life."
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